Betrayal in Death

He'd taken off his di

She could look at him for hours, and at the end of it still marvel that he belonged to her.

Someone wants to hurt you, she thought. I'm not going to let them.

He lifted his head. He'd scented her, or sensed her. He always did. Their eyes locked, and for a moment stayed locked. A thousand messages passed between them in absolute silence.

"Worrying about me won't help you get your job done."

"Who says I'm worried?"

He stayed where he was; simply held out his hand.

She crossed to him, took it, gripped hard. "When I met you," she said carefully, "I didn't want you in my life. You were one big complication. Every time I looked at you, or heard your voice, or so much as thought about you, the complication got bigger."

"And now?"

"Now? You are my life." She gave his hand one last squeeze, then released. "Okay, enough mushy stuff. Olympus."

"What about it?"

"You're selling property up there. Big fancy houses, snazzy apartments, and like that."

"Marketing describes them with a bit more panache, but yes. Ah." He clicked in before she spoke. "Sylvester Yost might enjoy the advantages of a comfortable off planet home in a self-contained community."

"You could check it out. His pace of contracts in the past two years is up twelve percent. Could very well be a push for a nice, fat retirement nest. Best guess would be his Roles alias. It's not an answer but it's another link. Enough links you make a chain. Now."

She walked around the console, sat on the edge of it to face him. "You've got partners, multinational, in the Olympus thing. Investors. Anybody unhappy, a

"There are occasionally bumps, but no. The project's moving smoothly and on schedule. I took the biggest financial risk, and therefore will reap the largest profits. But the consortium's satisfied. Returns on investments are already exceeding initial projections."

She nodded. "All right. Here's how it seems to me. If this is a business hit, the business is likely in New York. I'm thinking if it was business in, say, Australia, the hits would be in Australia. To draw you down there."

"Yes, I've considered that."

"First hit's at your hotel, when it's public knowledge you'll be on-site. Second hit is in one of your rentals, and you're in town and working minutes away. Give me a co

"I don't have one."

"No, you do. You're just not seeing it. Neither am I." In her mind, she-switched to interview mode, and Roarke to witness. "Darlene French was a maid at your hotel. You had no personal contact with her?"

"None."

"Who hired her?"

"She'd have submitted an application through the human resources department, and ultimately hired by Hilo."

"You don't supervise the hiring and firing?"

"I'd spend all my time doing so."

"But it's your hotel. Your organization."

"I have departments," he said with some impatience. "And the departments have heads. Those heads operate with the required autonomy. My organization, Lieutenant, is designed to run smoothly, on its particular internal wheels, so that – "

"Did Talbot have any tasks that involved The Palace?"

"None." Frustration slipped into his eyes. He knew what she was doing, sliding him into the witness slot so that he would answer instinctively. And she did it well. "He never even stayed there. I checked. Certainly he would have had authors who did, and certainly he'd have entertained authors or business associates there for di

"Maybe he hosted parties there. You know, professional spreads. Maybe he had one pla

"No. He might have attended some. The publicity department at the publishing house generally arranges that sort of function. There's nothing on the slate I'm aware of. Magda's display and auction are the showcase through the month."

"Okay. Did he have anything to do with that?"

"The publishing house isn't involved in the auction. Jonah acquired, edited, and published manuscripts. The hotel and its functions are entirely separate from…"

She all but heard the click. "What?"

"I'm an idiot," he murmured and got to his feet. "Manuscripts. We'll publish a disc, a new biography of Magda next month. There will also be a publication detailing the auction – each piece, its history and significance. Jonah would have been involved in those projects. I think it's one of his authors who wrote the bio. He'd have edited it."

"Magda." Co

"Maybe we both are. The auction."

She held up a hand, pushing off the console so she could think on her feet. "Magda Lane in residence at The Palace. Your hotel. Holding one of the biggest events of her professional life there. Not at one of her own homes, not at one of the auction houses, but your hotel. Whose idea was that?"

"Hers. At least she contacted me with it. It's a media hook," he added. "And it's working."

"How long has it been in the pla

"She contacted me over a year ago with the concept. You don't put something of this scope together quickly."

"That's a lot of time for someone who wanted to mess up one or both of you to lay things out." And Winifred Case had died in Paris eight months before. The smugglers in Cornwall, two months after that.

"Then your publishing house is putting out discs. What else is there? Security. Who are you closest to on the security team for the hotel and auction? Think it through, I want names. Your publicity wheel, too, and… Jesus, what goes into this sort of thing?"

"I'll run it down by department and function."

"On her end, we have her son, her business manager, and his wife. She'd have others."

"I have those as well."

"We'll start there, do what can be done to protect those individuals." She stopped, turned back. "But the pattern is the targets work for you, so they get priority."

He was nodding, and already calling up his files on the auction.

"Roarke, what happens, to you personally, if this auction is a failure or some sort of scandal rises out of it?"

"Depends on what the failure or scandal might be. If it's a financial disaster, I lose some money."

"How much money?"

"Mmm. Conservative projections estimate the take at over five hundred million. Add sentiment and rabid fans of Magda's, the media attention, and you may easily double that. Over and above the fee for the hotel and security, I get ten percent of the gross. But I'm donating that back to her foundation, so in actuality, the money isn't an issue."

"Not to you," she murmured.

He shrugged that off. "I'll transfer these names to your unit. I intend to arrange for my own security for my people. And for Magda's."

"I've got no problem with that." Her eyes were narrowed, but she wasn't seeing the data that whizzed by on the wall screen.

"Roarke, you've got potentially a billion dollars of merchandise displayed in a public hotel. Just how much would that merchandise go for, fenced?"

He was ahead of her there. His mind had already shifted modes, and taken him back to his past. It would be a fine, exciting heist. The take of a lifetime. "A bit less than half that."

"Five hundred million is a hell of a paycheck."

"Could be more if you hooked to particular collectors. Still, the security's solid. You've seen it yourself."

"Yeah, I've seen it myself. How would you do it?"

He ordered the data transferred to Eve's unit, went back to his own to begin the run on Olympus property. "At least one inside man in each area, preferably two. Best to have a plant on my team, and another on Magda's. You'd need all data, security codes, failsafes, timing. I wouldn't do it with less than six people. Ten would be better. I'd have a couple in the hotel, as staff or guests."